I always feel sad when I come to the realization that some people who have called themselves friends were doing little more than tolerating me. Tolerance is a good thing, but I really prefer to be liked.

Even more than being liked, I prefer to associate with people who really care. So, when I reach a point when it is clear that someone that I thought cared really was merely tolerating, it is quite a let-down.

Some of it, I think, is my own fault. I tend to be a fairly cynical person and I tend to like cynical people. I’m very much into being “real”, saying what I feel even if it might offend. I like people who seem to do that. Where I get tripped up is that I believe that cynical people who talk badly about other people couldn’t possibly have any negative feelings towards me.

I think it is pretty clear that friends who have nothing nice to say to me about others probably don’t have much nice to say about me to others. I don’t know how to make myself remember that. I keep falling for it.

One man, long ago, whom I thought of as a friend, was terribly cynical about other people. I believed myself to be the one person he truly liked. It felt like quite an accomplishment.

Over and over, I ignored evidence that he was just as harsh in his criticism of me as he was about everyone else. I saw him in a store once with another friend of his, someone he had regularly trash-talked when talking to me. He and this other friend, who was also a friend of mine, would whisper things to each other, look at me, then laugh. I knew that routine well. I had participated in it with him about others.

So, I’d like to say that I’ve learned my lesson. I probably haven’t. If anything, I strive to not get sucked into talking that way about others. Anyone who enjoys doing that when I’m around is probably doing the same thing about me when I’m not around.

You reap what you sow.

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